Adults in Training
by EvanlynPotter
Summary: Dumbledore has had another one of his sherbert-lemon-inspired ideas. A new training regime that will turn the Wizarding World upside-down. Got that Quick-Quotes Quill Rita? You'll be needing it.
1. Chapter 1

Harry glared furiously at the door, still shaking from its violent closing. He couldn't believe the nerve of his cousin! Right after he'd saved his freaking soul, Dudley had blamed his dementor-derived illness on him! Betrayer. Well at least he now knew how Pettigrew had been put in Gryffindor; you'd have to be pretty brave to betray someone if you knew that a murderous Sirius Black (or in this case Harry Potter) would kill you as soon as he got the opportunity.

For a moment, he toyed with the idea of giving Dudley to the Death Eaters, but soon decided against it. It wasn't actual affection (hidden veeerrry deep) for his cousin that made this decision for him. It was that (a) he didn't want to get that near any Death Eater, (b) if the press or (Merlin forbid) Hermione and Ginny found out, Voldemort would be out of a job and (c) he wasn't _quite_ that vindictive. But it was a near thing.

Abandoning his rather _un_Boy-Who-Lived-ish thoughts, he glanced around his room. From the old textbooks from first year to fourth year, to the baby toys stacked by on and around the strained shelves. His trunk was open, half full of quills, parchment, pyjamas and, well, he wasn't quite sure what that was. He winced inwardly, remembering that he had to go through that and pack it up again in an hour. Normally, packing a trunk wouldn't be much of an issue, but his trunk was so messy he was quite sure that it would have made the stables that Heracles had to clean look tidy.  
With an internal sigh, he leaned down and started to pull things out of his trunk. A singlet that he must have worn when he was an eleven-year-old stick figure, the 'textbook' that was the magic version of the muggle 'magic' eight ball, his battered old journal. He stopped at that. He couldn't believe he still had that. He thought he'd thrown it out after Ginny's experience with a similar object.

Apparently not. He opened it to the first page. 'Keep out!' among similar messages occupied the page. He smiled at the childish scrawl. Flipping over to the next page, he frowned. He read:

_Dear Journal,_  
_I know that you are Dudley's but I don't think that he will ever suddenly get the urge to keep a journal. Unless, of course, he sees me using his. I am Dudley's cousin, Harry Potter. I didn't know that till I was fore. I found out cos I ova heard Unkle Vernun and Aunt Petuna talking about me. I know it was about me cos my Unkle was saying sum thing about 'Boy' and Unkle Vernun only eva calls _me_ 'Boy' but Aunt Petuna called me Harry. Then Unkle called James Potter a no-good lay about and why did they hav to look after his brat. Aunt Petuna sed they had to cos of stuff with blud and Lily. I think Lily must be my muther cos if Aunt Petuna and Unkle Vernun are really my aunt and unkle then one of their siblins must be one of my parents. But Unkle Vernun only has one sibling and that's Aunt Marg and I know she's not my muther. So Aunt Petuna must hav had a sister, so that was probably Lily, so Lily was probably my muther. See?_

_The Durslys don't like me. They say that I'm a 'good-for-nuthing, lazy, ungrateful, freakish bastard'. I hate them. I do more of the work around here than anyone else, so I am good for something, and I'm not lazy or ungrateful. I don't know if I am a bastard. I don't know what a bastard is. I do know that I'm a freak though. Cos a freak is sum one who's weird and I am. Well I think I am, anyway cos when I get angry stuff happens. Stuff that's not sposed to happen. Sum times stuff moves or gets smaller and sum times stuff disappeers. Unkle always gets angry when the stuff happens. He yells at me and calls me freak and tells me its all my folt cos evry thing's my folt and he hits me and puts me in my cubbord. My cubbord is cold and dark and it has spiders in it. I don't mind the spiders. They don't hurt me if I don't hurt them but the dark skares me. It is always dark in the cubbord. It makes me feel like I've been in there forever. And the cold is horrible cos even though the doors shut it still gets in. I cant get away from it. Its there all the time. And sumtimes the cold and the dark make me stop breething. My throte closes up and I cant breethe. Then I keep trying to breethe but I cant and it gets worse and worse. I hate the dark. I hate the cold. They make me choke and cry._

_I hate crying. Unkle Vernun always hits me harder if I cry. I don't want to cry ever again. It never makes anything better anyway. I wont do it. I wont! _

Here, a line streaked off the page as though the writer had been startled by something. Then the entry continued.

_I have to go and move the televishun, Unkle Vernun says that the sun is stopping him from seeing the picshure with the televishun where it is,_  
_Harry_

Harry was revolted. He brushed through then pages, noting that the first half of the book was written in what looked like blood and only the last half was written in pen. He put the book down on the bed and sank down next to it. His head was spinning. Flashes of buried memories surged to the front of his mind.

Curled up in a ball, rocking backwards and forward, biting his lip to stop tears from leaking from the corners of his tightly closed eyes

Being thrown against the wall by his Uncle, who seemed much bigger than he was now.

Sitting in the cupboard, leaning against the wall, cradling his wrist to his chest, taking deep shaky breaths in attempt to relax, head tilted back and eyes closed, but no sign of tears.

Lying in the foetal position, Dudley's gang in a ring around him, taunts ringing in his ears, but still no tears. Then the memories stopped. Harry tried to remember more but no more memories surfaced. He just couldn't remember anything from the time when the diary was written. It was as if someone had gone through his mind and locked all of his memories about the abuse mentioned in the diary away.

Now he thought about it, he realised that while he always flinched when his Uncle raised his hand, he couldn't for the life of him remember the kind of physical abuse that would've prompted such a response. He knew that he had lived in the cupboard under the stairs until he was eleven, but he couldn't remember any of it. He could remember chores with great detail (he had done them all a million times) and he remembered that his Uncle would punish him but past a punch on the mouth, even the more recent events were a blur. It made no sense.

Glancing at Dudley's old alarm clock, Harry put the matter aside to be dealt with sometime in the distant future; he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know why he couldn't remember and he wasn't positive he would be any happier knowing. Sighing, Harry started in on his trunk again, hoping that this time, he would finish it. Preferably before the Weasleys arrived.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, if I did would this be here. Well it might be. J. might decide that she wants to see how popular her story would be if she had gone with a different plotline.**

A/N: Hi guys, I would like to tell you a short story now. Once upon a time there was a girl called Evanlyn. One day she put the first chapter of a fanfiction up. She checked her emails the next day to find not one person had reviewed. She was confused and sort of hurt because she had said that if you didn't like the story, not to review. So she checked her story traffic and found that twenty people had read her chapter and NOT REVIEWED (audience gasps). Shock! Horror! Does this mean that the readers didn't like her story? She doesn't know. Maybe you readers could please review and tell her what you think.

**Now, to the story.**

Harry slammed the lid of his trunk shut. When it stubbornly refused to stay closed long enough for him to lock it shut, he sat on it. Harry however, had been staying with the Dursleys for three weeks and consequently lost several pounds, making him too light to weigh down the lid enough. He swore, and then grabbed the old toy box that he had filled with textbooks from previous years, and heaved it onto the lid of his trunk, which shut with a sharp snap. He locked it smugly.

'I win,' he informed the trunk, then realised what he was talking to. He flushed and replaced the toy box.

HPGW*RWHG*Ten minutes later*HPGW*RWHG

'Boy!' Harry winced. He heard several loud clicks as his uncle unlocked the multitude of locks on his door at the highest speed possible for such fat fingers. Vernon Dursley finally burst through the door. Well not really 'burst', more 'wedged himself in the doorframe and wormed one fat roll at a time past and into Harry's room'.

'Yes Uncle Vernon,' Harry had a moment to wonder what he had done this time before he was given the answer.

'Your freaky friends are _finally_ here,' oh, of course, the Weasleys had arrived, on time for once.

'I'll leave. Now. Straightaway.'

'You'd better be gone in five minutes boy, or you'll not be going, you'll be getting an early birthday present,' Harry's eyes widened. Uncle Vernon had started making good on these types of promises recently. The cuts on his back had only just healed over.

'Yes sir,' Harry nodded and turned to get his trunk.

'Don't turn your back on me, you spineless little runt!' Harry flinched and turned again in time to catch Uncle Vernon's blow against his chest.

Harry went sprawling. His stomach lurched when he heard a strange crunching as hi hit the corner of his very solid trunk, and then the floor. For a second, he lay there, gasping for air, the painful sensation of having all of the air in your lungs forced out, combined with the stinging ache of having cracked a rib (or perhaps it was two) overwhelming him. Then he pushed himself up, knowing that Uncle Vernon enjoyed taunting him if he should show any signs of common human weaknesses.

He grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's cage and walked down the stairs, slipping an easy smile onto his face, knowing that only his eyes would show his pain. Not for the first time, he hoped that his friends could not yet read him that deep. The Weasley patriarch and the youngest four of his offspring plus Hermione were waiting by the door. Harry nodded his head towards it.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Harry turned and said uneasily,

'Hi, sorry 'bout my uncle, he's-'Harry paused, then shook his head and let the sentence hang. Mr. Weasley shrugged and said jovially,

'Anyway, how've you been Harry?' Harry allowed himself to slide into the natural greetings and light conversation, falling into step with Ginny in an attempt to leave Ron and Hermione together.

Looking around the group, he noted the change in his companions from last years...events. Mr Weasley now had grey hairs showing prominently in his otherwise bright red head of hair and there were lines on his face that did not come from smiling.

The twins certainly _looked_ the same (**A/N: no pun intended**) but they were as good at hiding things as he was.

Ron had somehow managed, yet again, the impossible task of growing more than an inch in three weeks. Either that or Harry was shrinking, he hoped not.

Hermione was a little taller and she looked older but that was all that Harry registered before his attention was caught by the youngest Weasley.

Ginny was growing up. She had gotten taller, slimmer, and he couldn't help but notice her figure showing through the light summer clothing she was wearing. She really looked...pretty. Confused by the strange feeling, he shook himself from what he considered 'inappropriate thoughts' and back to the conversation in time to catch Mr Weasley saying where they would be taking the portkey from; the park.

Wait! The park!

Dudley and his gang would be there. But he had no time to find a way out of taking that route, as a moment later they had turned the corner and began to cross the park, towards the group of large boys by the swing set. As they approached, one of Dudley's friends spotted them and nudged Dudley, pointing. A wicked gleam flashed in Dudley's eyes and he pushed himself upright and nodded his head towards them. The group rose as one and congregated towards Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys. Dudley smirked as he noticed the girl by Harry's side, registering a possible avenue for teasing.

Mr Weasley didn't notice the sudden hostility and left the group to set up the portkey behind a nearby group of trees. At the chance of attacking with no adult present, Dudley leapt to say,

'Harry, I'm hurt, didn't tell me you'd got yourself a girlfriend,' Harry decided that Dudley didn't need to know the truth,

'Jealous Dud,' Harry shot back in a Malfoy-esque drawl, slipping his arm around Ginny's waist.

'Nah. Why would I want a girl hanging off me all the time; girls are too high maintenance,' Dudley's answer could have been taken as joking had his tone been different. Harry raised an eyebrow and replied,

'Because you've got so much experience with girls,' Harry hoped Dudley wouldn't call his bluff. He didn't. Instead he took another approach,

'So this is the whore you saved when you were twelve. Bet she doesn't know what you do at night, eh Harry,' Ginny flinched at the mention of the Chamber, Harry's arm tightened around her subconsciously, his eyes burning.

The twins shared a glance at Harry's behaviour. Perhaps it was the way that Dudley had referred to Ginny, or perhaps it simple the fact that he had mentioned the chamber where Harry and Ginny had almost died, either way, Harry was protecting their sister.

He might just deserve her.

Just.

'Don't talk about her like that,' it wasn't a request. It was an order, cold and furious.

'I'll do what I want Potter. But she doesn't know 'bout what happens to you when the sun goes down, does she?' Dudley smirked and on cue, the boys behind him laughed. Harry didn't say anything. The look on his face would've sent Dumbledore running for the hills, but Dudley just grinned cruelly. Harry's lips were pressed into a fine line and his eyes were a different burning, snapping shade of green.

'Well? They don't know? Maybe I should tell them,'

'Dudley...' A warning. In the humble opinion of Miss Ginevra Weasley, Harry was being far too generous with this creep. Glancing up at Harry, she grinned internally. He looked like his self control was near breaking point. She almost felt sorry for him.

But not quite.

Dudley was starting to look like the Cheshire cat as he said,

'Well, in the daytime, Potter here may seem to be the kind heroic freak people think he is, but when the sun goes down he-' Harry didn't let his cousin finish the sentence, throwing Dudley across the park, without laying a finger on him. Dudley, Hermione and the Weasleys all knew it was magic, but Dudley's gang didn't. They were now shifting their great weight from foot to foot, their eyes flicking to make eye contact with each other; they were scared. As far as they knew, Dudley had been tossed across several meters by an unseen hand, Harry maybe. They all knew he was weird.

Harry had dropped his arm from around Ginny and was now striding across the ground between him and his cousin, Dudley's gang parting like the Red Sea as he passed. As he reached his cousin, he leaned down and grabbed the front of his cousin's shirt with one fist, pulling him up to eye level, all in one smooth motion. _Ow! Ow! OW! Curse you, Uncle Vernon!_ Ginny's eyes widened; she'd had no idea he was that strong. Harry was still holding his cousin off the ground, his body visibly taught, the muscles in his arms, neck and jaw clenched as he leaned forward and hissed,

'I was under the impression that I had told you not to mention that; either my memory is failing me or you deliberately disobeyed me,' Dudley didn't say a word. He wimpered a little, sounding rather like Wormtail. Harry must have thought so too, for his face wrinkled in digust, 'well, which is it? Goddamn it, answer me!'

'Your memory isn't failing you,' Dudley was quick to say.

'Of course it isn't! I know what I said and what you said. Now tell me, will you do it again?' Harry was truly terrifying now.

'It won't happen again,' Of course it wouldn't. No one in their right mind would do anything Harry had told them not to if confronted with Harry in that state.

'Good,' Harry dropped him and turned, walking back to group and slinging his arm around Ginny and pressing his lips to the top of her head as he glared at his cousin (**A/N: You know how guys do that walk away with the arm around the girl, glaring at rival guy? Yeah? Harry's pulling that one to finish his 'act'**). Harry motioned to his friends to continue to where Mr. Weasley was waiting with the portkey, removing his arm from Ginny's shoulders once after they were out of sight of Dudley and his gang and before they reached Mr. Weasley.

Harry ignored the worried, shocked looks of his companions, sans Mr. Weasley, who simply looked confused by the looks, and put his hand on the portkey, trying to ignore the churning sensation in the pit of his stomach. He told himself that it was because he hated using portkeys, but he knew that it was apprehension for the inevitable explanation that he owed his friends.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I'm not JK. I don't own Harry Potter. Capiche?**

**A/N: I've put little footnote thingies in this so when you see one of those little number things, that's where I needed to put an author's note but didn't 'cause I didn't want to interrupt the story. These notes are at the bottom of the chapter.**

**Thanks to my reviewers, I love you guys!! I'm sooo sorry for not updating sooner but it wasn't **_**completely**_** my fault…just partly. Four words people: hell with fluorescent lighting (otherwise known as purgatory or school). Thanks for sticking with me. Here's the story.**

Harry hissed in pain as the portkey deposited him on the grass of one of the Weasley's fields. He pushed himself off the ground, muttering darkly about 'bloody portkeys' and 'idiotic, sadistic uncles', and then, upon realizing why he was having trouble telling the difference between the multiple Weasleys present (who were looking rather blurred), 'stupid, effing glasses'. Turning to the brunette blur, he said,

'Hermione…' A few of the redheaded blurs sniggered as Hermione huffed and reproached him thus,

'Honestly Harry, it's not that hard to land on your feet…' and she continued on that train of thought, forgetting that she had yet to fix his glasses, until interrupted by a redheaded blur with Ron's voice.

'Give the guy a break, 'Mione, not everyone can be so...' and normality set in as Harry's best friends proceeded to rip each other's throats out, verbally, of course. Normality was soon disturbed by a feminine giggle followed by the words,

'Here, _reparo_. Better?'

'Yeah, thanks Gin,' he grinned at her. Ginny smiled back, not blushing for once. Harry's mind provided images of some of the other times he'd spoken to the youngest Weasley and her seemingly permanent blush that (although he'd never admit it to anyone) he thought was sort of cute, before his train of thought switched and he found himself searching for ways of returning that blush to her cheeks, then wondering whether she blushed all over. _Bad Harry! Bad thoughts!_

He swallowed hard and, ignoring Ron and Hermione's bickering, gestured to the front door of the Burrow and said,

'What're they doing?' Arthur was standing outside the door and appeared to be whispering to the person on the other side of the door, presume ably Molly Weasley.

'A new safety precaution: everyone in the Order has to do it. You get asked a question that only the real you would know, and then you ask the other person something only they would know. Annoying, but you get good blackmail from people's answers,' she explained and grinned evilly at the last part. Harry snorted.

'You're evil, you know that,'

'Who did you think the twins learned it from,' Ginny said playfully.

'What are the questions about?' Harry asked, changing the subject.

'Anything really, like, what was the first thing I said to you when I woke up after you stabbed the diary?'

'You said my name and that you'd tried to tell me at breakfast but couldn't say it in front of Percy,'

'Exactly, now you ask me one,' Harry thought for a second,

'The morning after Ron and the twins rescued me from the Dursley's in your dad's car, what did you ask your mum¹ before running out of the room?'

'Where my jumper was,' she said without skipping a beat. Harry laughed as he said,

'Wasn't it on the cat or something?'

'Yeah, Fred and George were playing dress up with the poor thing,' Ginny grinned, reminiscing. It was at that moment that the door of the house opened and Mrs Weasley rushed out and pulled him into one of her trademark hugs. The pain in Harry's ribs skyrocketed. His jaw clenched as he fought back a yelp.

'Help!' he mouthed. Ginny took pity on him,

'Mum, let him go, you're choking the poor guy,'

'Oh, I'm sorry dear,' she paused, 'Well? What are you all waiting for, come inside, you'll catch you death of cold out here!' and with that she bustled into the house. He and Ginny shared a look,

'In summer?' Harry wondered out loud. Ginny giggled and followed him inside.

HPGW*RWHG*after dinner*HPGW*RWHG

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the twins sat in Ron's room in silence. Harry sat slouched on the corner of the bed leaning against the wall with his knees pulled up to his chest in attempt to hide the fact that he was currently putting small amounts of pressure on different parts of his ribs to see how many were cracked. Ginny watched him out of the corner of her eye. Hermione and Ron shared a glance, and then she asked tentatively,

'Harry, what happened today at the park with your cousin?'

'What do you mean?' Harry stalled.

'You know what we're talking about mate,' Ron said.

'My attitude or my actions?'

'Both,'

'At Privet Drive, it's, it's very much a…' here Harry paused, frowning slightly, '…a… survival of the fittest situation. It's either kill or be killed.'

'Sort of like a pack of wolves, you mean?' Hermione said. At the rest of the groups confusion, she continued. 'With the 'don't show weakness' thing and the "everyone has to fight to earn the respect of the pack so that they won't kill you" isn't it'.

'That's close enough.' Hermione frowned suddenly,

'Do they know you're a wizard?' she asked.

'No.'

'What do your relatives say to hide the fact that you're away for most of the year?'

'That I go to_St_**. **_Brutus's_Secure_Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, a school for _mentally subnormal and violent adolescent males,' Harry recited imediately, sounding as though he had been programmed to do so. He paused for a moment, then added. 'I have quite a reputation.' He laughed humorlessly.

'So you use that?' Hermione guessed.

'So you think I shouldn't defend myself!' Harry flared up, putting his legs down and standing quickly. His teeth clenched as his ribs twinged painfully.

'No! That's not what I'm saying! I'm just saying that it was clear that all of those boys were scared of you and I want to know what you did to frighten them!' she defended. He sat, slower than he had stood.

'Does it matter what I did? It's in the past,' he finished quietly.

'What did you do Harry?' it was Ginny. He didn't want to tell her, her especially. She'd hate him forever if she knew. But she was staring at him in that way that she had. The stare that made him want to spill his guts. Damn her! Damn her for being so damn attractive. And damn him for being so damn attracted.

'I used magic,' Harry began, looking down, 'I made my eyes change colour when I was angry. Made sparks go up and down my arms. I influenced the weather, made clouds block the sun or started storms. Sometimes I made wind swirl around me.' At the last item, Hermione frowned,

'You mean, like they do in movies to make someone scarier?' Harry nodded. 'Can you show us?' He nodded again, and then stood. The group watched as first, Harry's eyes gleamed blood red, then his hair began to blow around as if he was standing inside a miniature tornado. Ginny gasped as electricity seemed to crackle from his fingertips, blue sparks dancing up his arms and thunder boomed from nowhere. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.

The thunder was cut off, the wind died, the sparks vanished and his eyes returned to their usual startling green. Ron, Ginny and the twins stared at him in awe. Hermione looked shocked.

'Do you,'

'Have any,'

'Idea what,'

'You've just done?' The twins said.

'That was some seriously powerful wandless magic, Harry.' Ron said. 'How did you do it?'

'I don't know. But what's the big deal? It's just a few illusions.'

'Harry, _Dumbledore_ can't do that kind of magic. Don't you think it's just a little strange that you can?' Hermione spoke, ever the voice of reason.

'I don't know, I just-' The door opened and Harry broke off. Mrs Weasley poked her head in,

'Everything alright, dearies? Well it's getting late. Best be off to bed now.' The Weasleys nodded while Harry and Hermione chorused,

'Yes Mrs Weasley.' The twins and Hermione left quickly, the twins via apparition and Hermione via the door. Ginny hugged the two boys, lingering a second longer with Harry, who retuned the gesture, trying not to thing about her curves pressing into him. It took a superhuman effort. He ignored his ribs – hugging Ginny was _much_ more important.

Half an hour later, Harry lay in his bed, already knowing what he would be dreaming about tonight.

**A/N: What did you think, guys? Not my best work, I know. Anyway, here are the footnote things:**

¹ This question is about the movie version of what happened here, where she asked Mrs. Weasley where her jumper was and Mrs. Weasley told her it was on the cat (I didn't even know the Weasleys had a cat), not the book version where she squeaks and runs out.


End file.
